CHAPTER 7 – ICE AMONGST RAINDROPS

Despite being the opening day of competition, the pub was crowded as could be. Hundreds had flocked to the watering hole with the conclusion of the opening ceremony, eager to get out of the sun and into the air-conditioning as the outside temperature ascended. Although a few had received their fill or left on account of battles to attend to, since the ceremony's end, the congregation had just seemed to increase in size. A huge plasma television dominated the back wall, entertaining the patrons with one of the first battles of the Conference.

With most eyes around her glued to the TV and the trainers' more diehard supporters placing bets over results, a tall woman with sleek blond hair clinked glasses with the man who'd just shouted her drinks.

Allowing her green eyes a brief downwards glance, she took a long drink from her glass. Just the way I like it, she thought, smiling at the man with full lips. He wasn't bad on the eyes; clean-shaven, springy light brown hair and a firm jaw were all ticked boxes, and although he wasn't overtly handsome, his unique brand of humour and sparkling baby-blue eyes were definite winners.

"—Because heaven forbid a model has the brains to match the beauty," he chuckled jovially, the faintest of blushes creeping onto her cheeks as his eyes returned to hers.

"Where did you learn to be so charming?" she asked with a giggle, flicking her elbow-length hair back over her shoulder.

"Comes with the territory, I suppose," he said as the pub burst into fresh jeers over the progression of the TV battle. One of the trainers had ordered a Destiny Bond, but her efforts had been thwarted by a timely Future Sight attack which had both interrupted the move and scored a KO for her opponent – the first of the tournament. "Speaking of, I'm surprised I'm the first one to offer to buy you drinks today. Dressed like that, I'd've thought every boy and his Shinx would be lining up for the privilege." He nodded at her somewhat revealing outfit, consisting of a plain white t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination considering her moderate chest, and a pair of sky-blue hot pants.

"At least I'm not in danger of being boiled alive by it," she smirked, brushing a hand across his vest and lightly tugging on the neck.

"Boiled alive in stylish clothes whilst buying drinks for a beautiful woman… Sounds like a great way to go, I gotta say," he said as he took another sip of his drink, his attention momentarily snared by a pair of rough-looking men engaged in a morning game of darts.

A witty retort was ready at her lips, but the bar's door chose that moment to burst open. Biting back her comment as all eyes but hers ignored the intrusion, she glanced over her friend's shoulder to see a boy in his mid-teens bent double, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. A shock of jet-black hair sprawled outwards from under a blue-and-white baseball cap, and the Pikachu on his shoulder was rapidly fanning its trainer's face with a paw to try and cool his beet-red face.

"Does anyone know… where Stadium 17 is?" he spluttered, but his strained words were lost amongst the boisterous locals as the TV showed the female trainer's prized Pokémon – a Hippowdon – crash onto the field. Taking pity on the exhausted trainer, the woman at the bar walked over to join him, giving her friend an apologetic look as she went.

"Do I at least get a thanks for the drink?" he asked, hurt by her sudden and indifferent departure.

"You already got a lot more than just thanks," she winked, tapping a finger against the top of her t-shirt. His eyes darted down to his own vest, but by the time he saw the tiny slip of paper concealed under the fabric, she and the boy had both disappeared behind the door as it swung shut.

"Thanks so much," the boy said, still with his hands on his knees as he regained his breath. "Sorry to drag you away from there… but I've got a battle in ten minutes and I can't… find the stadium I'm supposed to be at…"

"Don't worry about it, kiddo," she said with a beaming smile, putting a hand on his free shoulder and pulling him away from the middle of the street. People were running this way and that at a frenzied pace, whether they be looking for shops, chasing after stray Pokémon, or hunting down a stadium like her current company. "Call me Strung, by the way," she said suddenly, holding her hand out to the trainer.

"Ash," he smiled, grasping it firmly in a strong handshake. Having regained his breath and sense of direction, he stood up again, though Pikachu continued to use its paws as a makeshift fan. I'm glad Brock isn't here, he thought, finally getting a good look at Strung. She was exceptionally attractive, at least a whole head taller than he was, and with a curvy hourglass figure accentuated by her attire. Of course, being Ash, he didn't focus on any of these for longer than just a cursory glance.

"So which way is it to the stadium?" he asked anxiously. He didn't want to come off as being rude to Strung, having just met her, but on the other hand if he didn't get to the stadium on time, he'd be forced to forfeit the match, and judging by the calibre of trainers he'd seen on his way to the pub, he'd need as good a start as he could get.

"Oh, it's not too far away," she said airily, nodding her head down the street to her left and beckoning for him to follow.

Extremely relieved that something was going his way for once with the tournament, Ash dutifully stepped into line next to her, a half-pace behind as they headed off. The passing of a huge shadow overhead made him jump a bit, but he relaxed when he saw that it was just a Salamence joyriding with its trainer.

"Cute Pikachu," she winked, reaching a hand out to scratch Pikachu between the ears. The Electric-type obliged, a soft noise of contention escaping its mouth as Strung's fingers found a good spot, flashing her a grateful smile that didn't go unnoticed.

Ash smiled inwardly. Maybe he had used up all his bad karma tokens earlier in the day. "Yeah, me and Pikachu have been together ever since I started my journey from Pallet Town. I don't know a lot about cute, but he's pretty strong."

"He certainly looks it," commented Strung, tapping Pikachu on the nose, much to his delight. "I didn't know Professor Oak gave out Pikachu as starter Pokémon, though. I always thought you got to pick between Bulbasaur, Charmander and Squirtle."

"You do," he said. "I was going to get a Squirtle, but I kinda slept in on the day the professor was giving them out," he added sheepishly. This drew an honest laugh from Strung, though it was good-natured.

"And you ended up with Pikachu because he took pity on you and caught you one?"

"No, actually; he had another PokéBall in his lab, and that was the one that had Pikachu in it," he explained, patting his first Pokémon's head. "I've still got the PokéBall, but Pikachu doesn't like it so he just stays out here with me."

"Pika pi!"

"Ah, that's wonderful," she said succinctly, and Ash figured her pause was no doubt to reminisce about how she had met her first Pokémon. A question sprung to mind, too.

"What was your first Pokémon, if you don't mind me asking?"

"How about I show you?" she giggled, slipping a Great Ball out of her pocket and opening it in a flash of blue light that drew the derision of the many people nearby. A particularly offended passer-by voiced his distaste louder than the rest, storming over as Strung's Pokémon stomped onto the hard concrete road.

"The heck is your problem, lady?" he yelled, his dark-circled eyes locked in a tight squint to protect them from both the bright morning sun and the remnants of the Great Ball's flash. A thick band of stubble covered the lower half of his face, only seeming to enhance the aura of anger around him as he drew level with Strung. He looked supremely unintimidated that Strung was easily six inches taller than him, but when Strung's Pokémon joined her side, he took an involuntary step backward.

Standing just short of seven feet tall on a pair of thick pink legs, her Pokémon puffed its chest out and glared down at the man, almost as if daring him. Sequential bands of cream-coloured skin dominated the Pokémon's large underbelly, contrasting against the pink shades that covered most of the Pokémon's body. A ruffled collar of alternating red and white patches hung around its neck, giving it an almost regal look that clashed with the vicious glare on its face. A huge shell crown sat atop the Pokémon's head, adorned with a red gem in the centre and two horns curving upwards.

"H-h-hey, I don't want no trouble!" the man stammered, cowering under the sheer size of Strung's Slowking. He slowly backed away, hands held in front of him in surrender before turning tail and bolting down the street to a chorus of laughs from the other street wanderers.

"Well, that was interesting," Ash chuckled, scratching a cheek with a bemused look on his face as he watched the man run. A burst of giggling from behind made him turn around, finding Strung to be the source of it. "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing, really," she said, dismissively waving him off. She walked over to one of the many vendors lining the street and purchased a bottle of water. "But yes, Slowking here is my first Pokémon," she laughed, having forgotten about Ash's request in all the commotion.

"I've never seen a Slowking as big as yours!" he exclaimed, having to crane his neck upwards to get a good look at the Royal Pokémon. Next moment he felt a tug on his collar, dropping his gaze to see Pikachu staring at him with a stern look on his face.

Pikachu tapped a wrist with his paw, and then mimed a quick boxing performance. "Cha!" Ash took a few seconds to understand what Pikachu was signalling, but when he did, he felt like someone had dropped a piano on his head.

"My battle!" he howled wildly. It had completely skipped his mind when that weird man had approached Strung. His head darted this way and that, looking for any sign of the stadiums, but all he could see were other people in a hurry like him running down the street, vendors hocking their wares to anyone who would listen, and that Salamence from earlier making a second pass over the rooftops.

And then it dawned on him.

"Hey, I walked down this street earlier, and it's nowhere near the stadiums!" He rounded on Strung, paying absolutely no attention to Slowking as it took a half-step forwards. "You said you knew the way!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her and glaring through narrowed eyes.

"Calm down, Ash," she said, breaking into another giggling fit and nodding to her Slowking. The huge Pokémon trudged forwards with Strung in tow.

"What do you think you're—?" Ash fumed, but he was silenced as, for the second time today, he found himself under the grasp of a Psychic attack. Are you kidding me? he roared, but the noise was all in his head, his entire body immobilised by the Psychic-type's power.

"Slowking," Strung grinned, resting a hand on her Pokémon as it did the same to Ash, "you know what to do."

She locked gazes with Ash, and for the briefest of moments, Ash saw something that looked like an apology in her blue eyes. But then it was gone. Her grin widened, almost like she was enjoying this, and the next instant his world went white.

He felt dizzy. The darkness around him spun in a whirling, monotonic blur, up and down indistinguishable from each other. All he could feel was an aching pain in his knees and head. He reached out with shaking hands, feeling them make contact with something hard. Was it the ground?

He pushed hard against the surface, and it refused to budge. Confident as one in his state could be that he'd found the ground, Ash tried to crawl onto his knees, using his unsteady hands to brace his efforts. His trembling arms buckled under the strain and he crashed back down, his face hitting the ground hard. It felt rough, sharp at some points, almost like gravel…

Suddenly he felt a light tug on his jacket, almost like someone was trying to remove it. A pained groan escaped Ash's lips as the grip tightened. Next moment, he was involuntarily hauled to his feet. His body was trying its hardest to establish some form of balance, but his mind was still spinning inside. "What happened…?" he managed to choke out, feeling himself fall forwards again. The tug on his jacket redoubled, holding him fast but making the spins worse.

The seconds ticked by as he was held in that leaning position, and the world slowly began to right itself. The darkness began to subside into an assortment of grey hues. He could feel a sensation other than pain in his legs as blood was forced back into them. They started obeying what his mind was telling him; to stand up. Gradually, he regained control of his senses and his feet. The pulling force on his jacket tentatively relaxed, and he stumbled forwards a couple of steps before steadying himself.

"You alright, Ash?"

Ash gingerly turned around, only to receive a face full of cold water. He staggered backwards and fell over again, his backside landing with a loud thump on the pavement. Hastily wiping the water off his still-pained face, his eyes adjusted to the scene around him. Hundreds of people were milling about on an open plaza to his left, adorned with colourful balloons and umbrellas outside the numerous cafés. To his right was an enormous metal edifice which completely shrouded the sun behind it and cast a shadow half the size of a football field towards the plaza.

He allowed his eyes a quick wander to take in the structure, and at the top of the wide arch adorning the entrance he spotted a sign; Stadium 17.

"You're really not used to Teleporting, now are you?" Strung chuckled, grabbing Ash by the collar of his shirt and dragging him to his feet again.

"Teleporting?" he repeated blankly, looking under her shoulder and seeing her Slowking standing by. Pikachu was perched on its shoulder and looked very relieved to see that Ash was okay, leaping off the Water-type's shoulder and bounding towards him.

"Pika! Pikapi!"

"Hey buddy!" he said cheerfully, stooping down for a moment to let Pikachu jump onto his shoulder.

"Sorry about the whole business with the Psychic attack, but I knew you weren't going to stand still for long enough," apologised Strung, taking the chance to ruffle Pikachu's ears. "I didn't want to mislead you, but I really needed some water. This island's too hot for anyone's health."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Ash waved it off. It wasn't like he was late to his match; people were still filtering into the stadium, so there was no reason to suspect that he'd have to forfeit it. In truth, he was just relieved to have made it. "But now, I really need to get going."

"Don't sweat it," she said, shooing him towards the entrance arch.

Ash took the hint and gave her one last smile before jogging over to the stadium, waving a hand at her and her Slowking as he did. "Thanks for your help, Strung! And you too, Slowking!" he yelled over his shoulder, and the faintest trace of a laugh echoed to his ears as he ran inside.

He was met with a powerful gust of air-conditioning as he raced into the lobby, eyes searching for directions to the trainer tunnels. Once he'd found the desired sign not even three seconds later courtesy of the directory conveniently placed at the foyer, he took off, ignoring everything but the path he needed to take. He was oblivious to the soft blue carpet beneath his feet, the fans wishing him good luck as he tore past them with the speed and agility of a Scyther, the inviting yellows and blues lining the walls, and the intoxicating smells wafting his way from the stadium's main food store.

Rounding another corner, he found himself running down a tunnel towards a particularly tall security guard clad in a fluorescent green shirt. The guard pulled a phone out of his pocket, pressed a few buttons and flung an arm out to stop Ash when he drew level. Ash skidded to a stop to avoid coat-hanging himself on the man's forearm.

"What's the big deal? I've gotta get out there for my battle!"

"One moment, Mr. Ketchum," the security guard said, raising the phone as the call went through. "Sir, Mr. Ketchum has just arrived. Withdraw the forfeit order."

A few tense seconds passed as the guard waited for confirmation. Satisfied with his response, he snapped the phone shut and nodded at Ash. "You'll need to work on your punctuality for your next battle, Mr. Ketchum. Now get out there. The fans are particularly restless for this battle," he winked, lowering his arm and jerking his head towards the end of the tunnel.

Flashing the guard a mischievous grin of his own, Ash bolted to the bright square that signified the battlefield. As he approached, he got a hint of what the guard was talking about; the noise coming from the crowd above and around him was immense. He could feel tiny vibrations in the ground as he ran, such was the volume being generated. Pikachu seemed to have noticed it, too, for the Mouse Pokémon pulled Ash's collar up and twisted his cap slightly, smiling at his trainer as the pair of them stopped just shy of the exit.

"Well, this is it, Pikachu!" Ash announced, his heart racing in his chest, and not just because of having to run all the way here from outside. "Our first battle of the tournament! Let's get off to a good start. Whaddaya say?"

"Pikachu pichu!" responded Pikachu, curling his paws into fists and turning to face the battlefield.

"That's the spirit!" he grinned, stepping out onto the featureless field as his shoes sent a puff of dry dust into the air. As if the dust were the fuse to an explosive, so did the crowd burst into a thundering chorus of cheers as he walked out. Ash actually jumped in surprise at just how loud it was. It reminded him somewhat of the opening ceremony, only without the multitude of colours. He waved back to the screaming fans, who swelled with noise once more at the sight of their favourite trainer.

But Ash only had eyes for one person, amongst the thousands present in the stadium. And that was the person already standing at the field's centre circle. It was a boy roughly the same age as him, and probably within an inch or two of his height. Slight of figure, he was dressed simply, sporting a collared maroon shirt with black stripes at the bottom and a pair of full-length, navy blue jeans, something which struck Ash as odd. The weather wasn't that suited for jeans.

The boy had his arms folded across his chest. Clearly, he had been made to wait for Ash's arrival. Ash silently hoped that he could make it up to him with a thrilling battle. His brown eyes flicked from some random point in the stands over to Ash as he made his way closer. Dabbing his fringe away from his eyes, he readjusted the orange-lined, round-brimmed hat perched loosely atop his chocolate brown hair. He looked impatient for the battle to start. But a shadow of a smile crept onto his face when he saw Pikachu riding shotgun on Ash's shoulder.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Ash said when he reached the centre circle.

"It happens," the boy smirked. "You'll just have to make it up to me by giving me a darn good battle, eh?" he challenged, echoing Ash's earlier hopes.

"Great minds think alike," smiled Ash, his trademark competitive glint sparking to life in his eyes. His opponent must've noticed the spark, for he unfolded his arms and held out a hand to introduce himself.

"I'm Ari. Ari DeVarro."

If you managed to guess who Ash's opponent was before that last line, you deserve a medal. And victory cake.

As a semi-important announcement, I'll be taking a leaf out of Aron's book (go read his stories!) from chapter ten onwards, and may start answering acceptable questions that are sent to me. So get thinking! And swing by my profile before you send any questions in. I'm not going to answer questions that are already addressed in my profile. Instead, I will laugh and throw virtual sheep at your bedroom window.

Chapter 8 will be released on Tuesday, December 5th, and, as a treat to you faithful readers, will feature a salivating battle. I'm sure many of you are already brainstorming theories about what's to come, but you should never count your chickens before they hatch. That's also a good tip to remember when reading through Crown in general.

Until next time, keep reading, and don't forget to review~